Doubting Thomas (Tarnished Saints Series) (3 page)

“Where’s your shoes?” He looked away, busying himself with the deer, not wanting to look into the boy’s eyes in the moonlight.

“He lost them again,” Sam provided the information.

“That’s the third time this month,” Thomas said, trying to sound stern but not scare the child in the process. He looked back over his shoulder and noticed Eli chewing on his bottom lip, and standing on one leg, scratching his foot.

“Jake, you and Josh take Eli back to the house and get him ready for bed. It’s getting late. Sam and Zeke can help me this time.”

The twins seemed relieved, but little Eli didn’t show any emotion at all as his brothers took his hand and led him away.

“Pa? Did you hear me?”

Thomas turned away from his thoughts, bringing his attention to Sam, who was talking to him though he hadn’t even noticed.

“What is it, son?”

“I said Zeke has disappeared again. He was here a minute ago, but he’s gone now.”

Thomas let out a deep breath. Every time there was something to be done, Zeke seemed to go off and hide until the chore was over.

“Then I guess it’s just us, Sam.” Sam nodded his silent answer. “I think we’d better just gut it right here. It’ll be easier than trying to struggle with it. This thing’s heavier than I thought.”

“If Dan were here we’d be able to bring it home. He’s stronger than I am. A lot stronger.”

Thomas looked at Samuel with his twisted leg. He was so willing, but physically he was so challenged that it made Thomas want to cry. Yes, Daniel would have been a big help at a time like this, but his eldest son had called Gus at the gas station earlier from Brighton, two towns over. Thomas’s phone had been disconnected months ago because he couldn’t pay the bill. Actually, he was glad, because the infernal ringing had been driving him mad. Gus had come out to give him the message. Dan had finally managed to catch the horse but it had gone far this time. Since it was late, Thomas told Gus to tell him to spend the night with a friend from school and return in the morning.

“You’re gong to be strong too, son. As soon as we get you that operation, you’ll be even stronger than Dan.”

He saw Sam wince and look away. He’d fought him tooth and nail over this many times before. The boy didn’t want the operation and there was nothing Thomas could do to convince him. But now, it didn’t really matter, because Thomas didn’t have the money it would take for this costly procedure anyway. Thomas pulled out his hunting knife, the long sharp blade flickering in the moonlight. Sam’s body stiffened and his face went pale.

“How about you just head on back to the cabin and check on your brothers?” The younger boys didn’t need checking on, but Thomas was giving Sam a way out. The boy’s eyes lit up and his body relaxed.

“I’ll make sure they’re not playing with the kittens,” he said. “You know how Eli likes that new litter. He’d stay up all night playing if I didn’t insist the kittens needed their sleep too.”

“You do that.” Thomas forced a weary smile, and watched his son limp out past the road and disappear into the darkness. “And you may as well head on back too, Zeke,” he called out toward the woods. “Check on the animals before you go in.”

“Yes, sir,” he heard the small voice from the darkness, then the sound of running feet and snapping twigs as Zeke headed toward the house.

Thomas slipped the knife back into its sheath and picked up his shotgun. He’d go back and get the truck and ropes to haul the carcass. He never intended to gut the deer at the side of the road, but was only testing Sam. The boy was still afraid of knives, and now because of Fawn’s death, blood too. He headed on back to his truck which he’d left down the road before he’d pursued the deer on foot earlier. He was tired and weary, and more than anything, wanted this day to end.

He looked up to the sky, watching the half moon peek out from behind a passing cloud. How many times had he looked up to the sky and prayed for help? How many times had he asked for an angel to be sent down to guide him? He didn’t have any prayers left in him anymore. He gave up that notion long ago. It was a cold, cruel world, and there wasn’t a dang thing he could do about it. He had to raise his sons the best he could by himself. But lately he’d started wondering if he was doing the right thing. These were the thoughts that kept him from sleeping nights. He was no longer sure of anything, mainly of himself. But one thing was for certain. He had to stop entertaining the unwanted guest called doubt.

Chapter 3

The bright morning sun streaked in through the window of the Ainsley’s Bed and Breakfast, hitting Angel right in the face. She reveled in its warmth for a minute, then her eyes sprang open as she remembered just where she was, and the happenings of last night.

She rolled over and saw Gabby curled up in the king size bed next to her, her long blond hair fanned out over the soft downy pillow. She looked so helpless and innocent lying there, and this thought only had Angel reliving the fear of last night, hearing the gunshot in the woods. Had someone been shooting at them? She’d lived with fear ever since marrying Brad, knowing his job was dangerous. She should have known better than to get involved with a police officer. But where love is concerned, danger has no hold.

She’d been very frightened by the time she got to the Ainsley’s, but she tried not to show it, for her daughter’s sake. When Brad died, Gabby was still very young. She hadn’t really gotten the chance to know her father. The one thing Angel wanted most in life was to find a suitable father for her child. She didn’t like her little girl growing up without a dad.

In Angel’s line of work, she’d seen many children in many different situations. The ones who suffered most were the ones from broken homes. If she could only find a man she could trust and love, and one whom Gabby would love as well. Then her home life would be complete. They’d gone too long with just the two of them. But no one, she realized, could ever compare to Brad. No one could give her little girl the love, attention, and protection that he had.

Fathers were important icons to children. That got her to wondering just what kind of father Thomas Taylor was. Not a very good one, it seemed. If he wasn’t a cop, there was no need for a gun. She didn’t like guns. She planned on helping his children even if she had to take measures to take them away from that awful man, and place them with loving, caring parents.

She hadn’t mentioned the incident with Thomas Taylor to Agnes Ainsley. It had been late when she’d arrived, and she felt bad enough waking her out of a sound sleep as it was. Plus, she didn’t want to talk about it in front of her daughter. She also hadn’t told Agnes she worked for Child Services. She figured she’d keep that quiet for now, and just ask curious questions. She wanted to spend her vacation time on Thunder Lake, and if everyone knew why she was really there, she’d never be left alone to spend time with her daughter.

Angel slipped out of bed and dressed quickly. Gabby opened one sleepy eye and gave her mother a half-smile.

“Is it time to get up?” she asked.

“No, honey. It’s still early. You go back to sleep. I’m going for a morning jog. If you need anything, Mrs. Ainsley will be downstairs, so you can talk to her.”

Angel had known her friend Tillie for a long time, and trusted completely anyone related to the woman. Tillie was somewhat of a worrier, so when she raved about her aunt and uncle and the way they loved children, Angel knew she could trust the old couple.

“Okay,” Gabby answered, rolling over and closing her eyes. She didn’t like to wake up early and would probably sleep for a few more hours since it was summer and she didn’t need to get up for school.

Angel kissed her daughter atop her head and slipped out into the hallway. Even though it was only six a.m., she could smell the tantalizing aroma of bacon and fresh brewed coffee coming from the Ainsley’s kitchen. She made a quick stop at the bathroom at the end of the hall before continuing down the stairs. Of the four upstairs bedrooms, only hers and one other was occupied. Agnes and Clarence Ainsley occupied the room at the bottom of the stairs.

The house was a beautiful, huge metropolitan structure with cathedral ceilings, three elaborate stone fireplaces, and lots of windows lining the walls. There was a large domed glass sun porch attached to the family room, and a stained-glass ceiling above the kitchen island that lit up from above. This house belonged in an upper class section of a much larger town. It was not at all the kind of house you’d find on a lake. All the houses she’d seen last night on the way in, were small little cottages. Run down, and in dire need of painting. She knew they were probably the houses that were only used during the summer. She did see one or two larger ones, but believed those to be occupied by the permanent residents.

“Good morning,” she said, trying to sound cheerful as she made her way into the large kitchen. Clarence Ainsely was sitting at the long table, a newspaper in front of his face. He lowered it, and she got her first glimpse of him, since he’d been sleeping when she arrived last night.

Gray hair crowned the large bald spot on the top of his head. He wore a pair of thick glasses with dark plastic frames. He had a steaming cup of coffee in front of him and the remains of what looked like a bacon and egg breakfast. He sat there in his blue corduroy housecoat with a pipe clenched between his teeth.

“Good morning,” came that same, deep, booming voice she’d spoken to over the phone when she’d made her reservation. He put down the paper, took the pipe out of his mouth and stood up, towering over her. “I’m Clarence Ainsley. I take it you must be our niece’s friend, Angeline.”

She greeted him with a handshake, but flinched when he grabbed her hand tightly. Everything about Clarence Ainsley was done in a big way - his voice, his body, his glasses, and definitely his house.

“Angel,” she said. “Just call me Angel. That’s what my close friends call me.”

“Okay, Angel,” he said and chuckled. “Amazing, the names I’ve heard since we’ve opened up this Bed and Breakfast. How about some food? Let me call my wife. Agnes, where are you?” he boomed. “We’ve got a little lady here that’s pretty skinny. We need to fatten her up with some of your bakery.”

“Oh, you’re awake!” Agnes poked her gray head around the side of the restaurant-sized refrigerator, coming out from what looked like a butler pantry with her hands full of boxes of cereal. “I was thinking maybe your little girl would want some cereal this morning. I’ve got all kinds she can choose from.”

Angel watched in astonishment as Agnes put down the armload of boxes on the tiled island counter that sat in the center of the huge room. She was a short, stout woman who looked like she ate more of her bakery than she should.

“I’ve got sugared flakes, sugared pops, frosted shredded wheat, crispy waffle cinnamon cereal, and chocolate cookie cereal.”

“Really, that’s not necessary. Gabby’s not much of a breakfast eater.” Angel almost gagged at the half-dozen boxes of cereal that all contained more sugar than morally decent to still be considered part of a balanced breakfast.

“Or if she doesn’t like these, I’ve got more in the storage room. Let me get them.”

“Oh, no. Please.” Angel grabbed the box of shredded wheat, the only cereal with fiber in it, and held it up. “This will be fine. She’ll be sleeping for a while and I was wondering if you’d keep an eye on her while I went out for a morning jog?”

“Why I’d be delighted,” said Agnes with a large smile.

“Morning jog?” she heard Clarence from behind his paper. “Don’t go past the blue-gill pond out back. And take a long stick with you, or maybe I’ll give you a rake or hoe. We’ve been having trouble with stray dogs around here. I throw rocks at them every time I see them, but it doesn’t faze them. I think I’ll have to go up the hill and borrow that bee-bee gun from Smitty’s son. That’ll get those dang animals thinking twice about wandering on our property.”

Just the mention of the gun made Angel want to ask about what she heard last night. And whom she saw.

“How about some breakfast, sweetie?” asked Agnes.

Angel didn’t normally eat breakfast, but felt this would be a good time to gather information from the couple about Thomas Taylor and his kids.

“Well, just a little.” She sat down next to Clarence and before she knew it, Agnes was placing a plate down in front of her filled with a heaping pile of bacon, scrambled eggs, breakfast potatoes, and a huge English Muffin.

“Have some coffee.” Clarence held out the pot ready to pour it into the empty cup that almost magically appeared in front of her. They were a very efficient couple.

“Oh, thank you, but I don’t normally drink coffee.”

“Tea then?” asked Agnes, pulling a tin from the cabinet and flipping it open in front of her. “I have oolong, earl grey, lemon lift, herbal - chamomile, peppermint, jasmine . . .”

Angel felt exasperated. If she didn’t stop Agnes soon, the woman would go on forever. “Just a glass of water will be fine.”

“What kind?” asked Agnes.

That caught Angel by surprise. She almost laughed aloud. Water was water. How many different kinds could there be?

“Pardon me?” she asked, thinking she’d heard Agnes wrong.

“What kind?” repeated Agnes, holding up a plastic jug. “I have spring water, distilled water, mountain water, tap water - but it’s well water and I know you won’t like it - or I have - ”

“Tap is fine. Really.”

“With or without ice?”

Angel started calculating in her head how many types of ice Agnes would come up with, and decided to play it safe.

“Without, thank you. Just straight from the tap, whatever the temperature may be.”

“Well, some people really do like the taste of this stuff, but I don’t.”

“She said tap water, dear,” Clarence interrupted his wife. “No ice. Now get her a drink so she can eat her eggs before they get cold.”

Angel took a bite of the food, reveling in the delicious taste. She made small talk while she ate, surprised when her plate was empty and Agnes was ready to fill it again.

“That was delicious, but I need to go on that jog now.”

“Just stay on the main road,” said Clarence. “You don’t want to wander over to that crazy man Taylor’s road. Our guests do that now and again and don’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Really?” asked Angel, finally getting the information she wanted. “Well, matter of fact, I think I took that road last night by mistake.

“Well, you’re lucky that madman didn’t shoot you,” growled Clarence.

“I did hear a gunshot,” remarked Angel casually, playing with her fork. “Right after I stopped when I saw that little boy in the middle of the road.”

“Heavens to Betsy,” said Agnes, refilling Angel’s water glass and placing it on the table in front of her. “I swear, if I didn’t think he’d come after me if he found out, I’d call Child Protective Services and turn him in. The best thing would be for someone to come collect those poor kids from Thomas Taylor.”

“So is he an abusive father?” she questioned, trying to sound casual.

“Abusive isn’t the word for it,” gasped Agnes. “Those kids are always full of scrapes and bruises whenever I see them on the road.”

“That doesn’t sound like anything out of the ordinary.” Angel got up and carried her empty plate to the sink. “Every kid gets scrapes and bruises. Did you ever see him hit or hurt any of his children?”

“Well, no,” said Agnes.

“Any fool can see what’s going on there,” added Clarence.

“What do you mean?” asked Angel.

“Those poor kids are malnourished,” said Agnes. “They’re so skinny. I’ve often tried to send bakery over after his second wife’s death, but he would never take it.”

“How did his wife die?” Angel rinsed her plate in the sink, glancing back to see odd expressions on the old couple’s faces.

“Well, his first wife died from cancer,” said Agnes.

“What about his second wife?” Angel asked.

Silence. Agnes and Clarence looked at each other, then as if she could hold back no longer, Agnes reported, “She was murdered! Shot right through the heart.”

Clarence snorted behind the paper. “Everyone knows he killed her.”

“Now don’t say that,” scolded Agnes glancing at her husband and then at Angel nervously. “Clarence, you know he was proclaimed innocent.”

Angel thought it wasn’t good business for them to be talking about such things, but the Ainsleys seemed to like gossip. She needed the information, so she didn’t stop them.

“Why do you think he murdered his wife, Mr. Ainsley?” Their last comments took Angel’s interest. “Is this Mr. Taylor someone who’s dangerous or mentally ill?”

“Any man who has all those kids and refuses any help to raise them has got to be a little odd.” Clarence put down his paper when he spoke.

“Good morning,” came Gabby’s sleepy little voice from the bottom of the steps.

Gabby stood there, fully dressed, hair brushed, and looking very tired. Angel wondered just how long she’d been standing there or just how much she’d heard.

“Oh, is she adorable,” cooed Agnes, hurrying to her and ushering her to the table. “Now tell me honey, are you hungry? Would you like to have some juice? I’ve got orange juice, cranberry, grape, apple - ”

Angel kissed her daughter on the head and excused herself while the Ainsleys busied themselves trying to please Gabby.

“You stay here till I get back, Gabby. Don’t cause any trouble.”

“Okay, Mommy. Have a nice jog.”

Angel stepped out into the bright sunshine and also the blessed silence. After hearing Agnes and Clarence ramble on, she wasn’t sure how relaxing this vacation was going to be after all. She needed to talk to them more about Thomas Taylor, but figured it could wait till later. Then she’d find out who else knows the man, and ask them questions as well before she tried to talk to his kids.